The Tale of the Brother Blades
by Twilight-Fox
Summary: While on the search for Naraku, the party is led to a small village.. And a young man that has discovered The Brother Blades. ( Action, Romance, Drama, and humor will be included. Rating will get higher in the next chapters for violence, and such. Please


The characters of the series Inu Yasha that appear in this story are copy righted to their owners, I don't own them, I'm a poor slacker, don't sue me. The characters NOT from the series though, are mine, and are copy righted to Fred Schiedenhelm. Now, with that crap out of the way :  
  
Tale of the Brother Blades  
  
Prolouge  
  
Makoto was reluctant to open his eyes on the spring morning, it was so comfortable on his palat in the small hut he shared with an elderly woman he'd come to refer to as his aunt. The smells of the season were intangibly embracing him, a comfort like none other. A tranquil chorus of gentle early morning sounds came from the village just outside, easing him from his sleep and into consciousness, whispering to him to open his eyes.. And so he did, taking in the ceiling and walls around him as he sat up and stretched out. He didn't have to be up, he could sleep all day if he wanted to with no responsibilities to the village yet. It was rare that he did : Soon he was dressed fully again, and while watching the doorway he slipped his crude bokken out from beneath the side of the palat. He wasn't supposed to have one : No weapons, not even a club or sling.. As he grew older though, the want had simply grown too bad and he'd carved his own bokken from a storm fell branch. It wasn't much : It was ugly, but he cherished it neither the less.  
  
Glancing from the cloth shielded entrance he saw no one was really looking in his direction, with a quick silent sprint he was out of sight ducked around the hut and into a nearby wood line. Out of the sight of the village he could freely pursue his daily practice without fear of discovery. No need for stealth Makoto stood, then ran through the woods with soft ground underfoot. Near every day, save for in the worse storms, scorching heat spells, or bitter cold, he headed to the same meadow. In which was a grave marker set near the top of a low hill. At least, everyone thought it as such.. But there was nothing there to show it was a true grave.. That was the argument he had with himself at least once every so often : There is no one buried there. Take one of the swords that was embedded partially in the earth.. On the hill, there were blades : Two of them crossed and leaning towards each other, meeting at the hilt. There were no sheaths for the weapons, exposed to the elements the swords still never quite lost a soft shine on the cutting edge..  
  
He turned his back to the blades to fight the temptation more easily as he raised his misshapen bokken to a fighting level. Widening his stance Makoto started to practice, the sounds of the wood cutting the air. His strikes were practiced, through and methodical. He was a different person when he practiced his technique : Makoto was more thoughtful, at a different place.. The village, the hill, none of it was where he was. He had no intent of ever using his learning in battle, his village was a peaceful one. No one was allowed to have weapons, not even those of wood, save for a few carefully selected men for guarding the village and those whom governed it. Anyone whom was caught with a weapon was punished, no exceptions.. Sometimes severely, as they were normally caught when they used them. 'Maybe' He thought as he came out his trance like state with a bit of sweat coating his body. "Maybe I'm just doing this because I shouldn't.. No." He shook his head. "No, I do it because I like it.. I want to understand it.."  
  
With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, noting how it had gotten a little long because it was falling into his eyes partially. "Got to cut it later." Makoto muttered. As he drew in another breath, his eyes ticked over by the swords on the hill. 'What was that? Did something move?'. There was what seemed to be a big white lump by the swords that had just appeared.. But it couldn't be. Makoto moved to turn for a better look, and it disappeared from sight. The momentary fear left him.. With caution however, he walked towards where he thought he saw it.. Towards the swords. "Who.. Who's there?" He asked, his bokken leading the way. Only a lazy breeze was there to answer him, swaying the grass upon the hill. "I'm seeing things.. But I could have sworn.." Not even the grass was disturbed. Lifting his gaze from the lush grass his eyes feel on the weapons before him : He was closer then he ever was. Makoto started at them, the grass wasn't disturbed in the least around them.. The earth was even. 'It isn't a grave.' 'What is it then? There has got to be a reason.' 'It doesn't matter.. Just take them. Take them..'  
  
His bokken fell to the ground and one of the blades' hilts was in his hands, as if by magic. Makoto's breath caught in his throat, it wasn't magic. One of his hands had just reached out and grabbed one.. 'What am I doing?' Makoto asked himself as he tugged the blade from the ground in a smooth movement. He had the urge to run off with it : Then the second started to fall without the support of the first. His off hand grabbed it, in an instant the urge to run disappeared.. In his hands he held the blades he'd longed for since he first found them. For years.. Now, they lay in his grasp. He stood there for what seemed an hour but was mere minutes, then gathered the blades in his arms and walked off down the hill, his bokken laying on the ground behind him.  
  
(( Sorry if the spelling wasn't great. My spell checker doesn't support the few Japanese words I do use. Comments, or such, would be appreciated. There will be more. )) 


End file.
